"What would it take?" he asks quietly. "For you to feel safe enough to trust again?"
I consider the question seriously. "Time, I think. And consistency. Wade was charming and attentive at first, too. The control came gradually, so slowly I didn't notice until it was too late. I'm still unpacking the damage."
Plague nods, understanding. "We all have our scars."
I want to push, to ask about the jagged scar I glimpsed across his chest when he removed his shirt last night and my eyes were roaming all the angles and muscles on full display. But something in his posture warns me off.
"What about Thane?" I ask instead, changing the subject. "I've barely talked to him, but he seems... intense."
"Thane is the most honorable person I know," Plague says without hesitation. "If he gives you his word, you can trust it completely. He'd die before breaking a promise."
"That's quite an endorsement."
"It's the truth. Thane has been the moral compass of this pack since its formation. Without him, we'd probably have killed each other years ago."
"And with him?"
"With him, we're… family," he says quietly.
The simple statement carries more weight than any elaborate explanation could. I can hear the affection in Plague's voice, the deep loyalty that binds these alphas together despite their differences.
"And Wraith?" I ask, curious what his response will be. I already decided what I think of him a long time ago, but the verdict is still out on the others, even if they are growing me. Knowing how they see their gentlest packmate, even if he is physically the most intimidating, will go a long way. Or tell me I gave the benefit of the doubt where I shouldn't have.
Plague seems surprised by the question, but he doesn't answer immediately. He considers it for a few seconds before answering. "Wraith is a wild card. Or at least, that's how he is with everyone else. With you, he seems… different."
"Different how?"
A faint smile tugs at his lips. "Well, he's actually responding to the group chat. That's out of the ordinary."
I manage a laugh. "He does seem guarded."
"He has reason," Plague concedes thoughtfully. "He doesn't really trust anyone besides Thane. Or rather, he didn’t. Even then, there's a wall up. But I can assure you that you have nothing to fear from him. And I say that as someone whose head he's come dangerously close to caving in on more than one occasion."
I actually don’t think he’s exaggerating.
"Though I suppose my word doesn't mean much," Plague adds with characteristic self-deprecation. "Coming from another virtual stranger."
"You're not a stranger anymore," I say softly. "Not after last night."
Plague's eyes meet mine, something vulnerable flickering in their pale depths before he looks away. "Last night was..."
"Incredible," I finish when he trails off.
"I was going to say complicated," he says with a soft laugh.
"Why can't it be both?"
Before he can answer, Whiskey stirs between us, letting out a deep groan that sounds like a diesel engine turning over. His massive frame stretches, arms reaching toward the ceiling as he works the kinks out of his spine. The bones pop audibly in the quiet of the hotel room.
"Fuck," he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. "What time is it?"
"Early," I whisper. "Go back to sleep."
"Nah, I'm up." He rolls onto his side to face me, honey-brown eyes still heavy with sleep but alert enough to focus on my face. "You okay, sweetheart? You look tired."
"Just couldn't sleep. My body's still on tunnel time."
"Tunnel time?"
